


the papers say it's doomsday (the button has been pressed)

by inkstainedmemories



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, hurt!tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27081130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedmemories/pseuds/inkstainedmemories
Summary: He’d tried to run, of course. But it turns out that trying to run from already lit TNT is a losing game.(Or: what if Wilbur ignored Tommy and Quackity and pressed the button anyway?)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 13
Kudos: 292





	the papers say it's doomsday (the button has been pressed)

**Author's Note:**

> an au of last night's stream where wilbur showed tommy and quackity the button.
> 
> (title from as the world caves in - matt maltese)

Tommy can’t think straight.

He normally prides himself on his ability to keep calm and react somewhat rationally to all of the crazy shit that goes on in L’Manberg, but he thinks that he’s allowed to have lost some mental capacities right now considering his leg is fucking mangled.

Today wasn’t even supposed to be eventful. Tommy had just been giving Quackity the Pogtopia crash course, taking him ‘round the ravine and messing around in L’Manberg, when Wilbur had shown up. 

“Follow me this way, gentlemen,” he’d said, leading them away from L’Manberg’s centre. And so they’d both followed him into that awful, cramped room filled with splintering signs and frightening red sticks of TNT. Worst of all, however, was the button. Wilbur had pressed it without any of the hesitation or care that Tommy had come to expect from his president, and the subsequent blast had been earth-shattering.

He’d tried to run, of course. But it turns out that trying to run from already lit TNT is a losing game. 

Tommy shifts a little, wincing hard. He’s lying on the ground just outside the room Wilbur had taken them to, his leg trapped firmly under a huge mass of sharp stone. He’s trying not to look straight at it, though, because the ever-growing pool of dark red liquid amassing underneath it is more than a little disconcerting. It actually makes him want to throw up, not that he’d had the stomach to eat much today after the events of yesterday’s festival.

The smoke in the air makes him cough, and that’s when he realises there’s no other sound save for the sizzling of fire, his heavy breathing, and a persistent, horrible ringing. He purposefully doesn’t think about what might’ve happened to Wilbur and Quackity, who didn’t even make it out of the room. 

_Come on, big man, you can do this_ , Tommy thinks to himself, gritting his teeth. He makes to tug his leg out from the rock, but, as it turns out, rocks are a lot fucking heavier than they look, and he doesn’t manage to move very far. He has to stop, scrunching his face up in pain, as something sharp digs into his leg with an awful wet sound.

Tommy doesn’t know how long it is before the pain recedes and his vision clears, but when he can finally see again, he braces himself. He’s pretty sure that this situation calls for something more advanced than ‘ripping it off like a bandage’, but he hasn’t got any better ideas, and he’s almost certain that staying here too long will result in him bleeding out alone on the ground.

Tommy’s not sure what the worst way to die would be, but that definitely sounds like a fucking depressing way to go. 

_Shit_ , he thinks to himself, inhaling deeply, and, before he can think too hard about it, he yanks his leg out from under the rubble in one swift motion. Immediately, he regrets trying to move again. _Oh, bloody fucking shit_ , he thinks, even as he cries out in agony and his vision whites out. It hurts so much; there’s a stabbing pain that’s jolting through his whole body without respite, right through to his core until he can’t focus on anything else. It hurts _so much._

What was Wilbur thinking? Did he really want to blow up L’Manberg so badly that he’d injure those on his side to do it? Clearly so, if the gaping wound in Tommy’s leg was anything to go by.

He’s working on taking huge, shuddering breaths to calm himself down when he becomes distantly aware of two voices in the background, raised and frantic. 

“-blew the whole place up! God, I can’t see anything through all this smoke.”

“Tubbo, there!” It’s a woman’s voice, high and worried. “There’s someone on the ground!”

Is there? Tommy had been so sure he was the only one who made it out. He blearily opens his eyes to try and look around, but shifting his head sends another deep wave of pain radiating throughout his skull, and he lays back down, letting out a low, guttural moan. 

“Holy shit. Tommy, it’s Tommy! Oh my god, there’s so much blood, shit. Niki, what do we do? What do we _do_? Can he even hear us?” The male voice continues to frantically ask questions, even as Tommy dully registers that, of course, they were talking about him. The blast had been too powerful to let anyone else survive. The second thing he registers is the voice; he _knows_ that voice. He’s heard that voice almost daily for a year now.

“Tubbo?” he slurs out, even as Tubbo kneels down next to him, grasping fiercely first at his arm, and then threading a hand through Tommy’s hair, brow creasing as it comes back red and sticky.

“Don’t try to talk, Tommy. We’re going to help you,” Tubbo says, voice thick. “We saw the smoke from miles away in the forest. I can’t believe Wilbur would- there’s so much blood, Niki, oh my god. We have to do something! I don’t even know first aid, and it’s not like there’s a hospital nearby. He looks really bad, and his leg-”

“Tubbo, take a deep breath.” Niki’s voice is firm, and she too kneels down next to Tommy, assessing his wounds. He hears her inhale quickly, and, in the short silence that follows, Tommy understands that his leg is definitely royally fucked. There’s nothing he can do, however, except lie and stare up at the grey smoke swirling lazily towards the dark sky. In his peripheral vision, he sees Niki stand up, seemingly having come to a conclusion. “We need to lift him onto your horse.”

“Whoa, hold on a second,” Tommy interjects, dread spiking through his heart, “that sounds like a whole lot of movement to me. Horrible, painful movement. Can’t you just-” he breaks off for a second to take another gasping breath, “-leave me here? Patch me up on the ground?”

But Tubbo is shaking his head, looking sorrier by the second. “She’s right, Tommy’, he says, not even making eye contact because all anyone can look at is his fucking leg- “I can help if we get to an ender chest—I have supplies inside—but the nearest one is far away, and we can’t just leave you here. It’s the only way.”

Tommy tries to rapidly reiterate the fact that he’s very much not on board with this plan, because at this point he’s not on board with anything that involves even more pain, but he cuts himself off as one of them prods at his leg. He takes one deep, juddering breath, then many more as they continue to shift him about, white-hot sparks of pain shooting up his leg at every movement.

He blanks out for the majority of the next several minutes, but when he can focus again, he notices, firstly, that he’s sitting slumped on Tubbo’s horse, but also that his leg has been tied with what looks like Tubbo’s coat, presumably to stem the blood flow, and splinted with a stick. Niki’s hands steady him as the horse snorts beneath him and begins to walk; Tubbo leads it from the front, picking his way around the glass shards and rubble covering the ground like some twisted version of a patchwork blanket. 

There’s silence while they slowly make their way towards wherever the nearest ender chest is. Tommy stares down at his hands clutching the reins, at the red-grey mixture of blood and dust coating his knuckles and the underside of his fingernails. At one point, he gasps as the horse jolts his leg particularly painfully, and Tubbo quickly and profusely apologises, looking back worriedly.

“I’m all good back here, Tubbo. Just try and get us to that ender chest soon, because my leg feels like it’s about to fall off,” Tommy says, lifting his head to shoot a weak, pained grin at Tubbo. Tubbo frowns, eyes darting quickly to Tommy’s leg, which is hanging limply in the stirrup. Tommy winces; he didn’t mean to make them anymore worried, but apparently no one’s in the mood for jokes, which, he concedes, is probably fair enough given the whole messed-up situation.

Niki squeezes his shoulder gently. “I’ve been thinking about what we should do since the festival yesterday. L’Manberg’s all blown up now; we can’t stay here any longer.”

Tubbo nods, sidestepping neatly around a pile of broken scaffolding. “I was thinking,” he starts hesitantly, “what if we just left? There’s no one keeping us here anymore, not now that Wilbur…” he trails off, and Tommy knows they’re all thinking the same thing. There’s no one keeping them here anymore, now that Wilbur’s gone and blown up their home.

“That sounds good to me. We could just take a boat, pick a random direction and sail until we find someplace new.” Tommy hums, thinking about all the possibilities. They could leave all the pieces of L’Manberg behind them, form a new nation, build it from the ground up and make it better than L’Manberg or Pogtopia ever were. 

Of course, they weren’t going anywhere for a while yet with Tommy’s leg as it is. 

Niki speaks up from beside him. “To someplace new.” She squeezes his arm again, and when he looks down at her, she’s smiling softly.

“To someplace new,” Tubbo repeats, and Tommy doesn’t need to look up to know that Tubbo’s smiling too. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first fic so pls let me know in the comments if there's anything i can improve on :)


End file.
